


Bodyguard Number 19

by muse_apollo



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, First Meetings, M/M, Swearing, roman being a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_apollo/pseuds/muse_apollo
Summary: Over the years, Roman Sionis has had a great many bodyguards. They didn’t tend to stick around long, Roman made sure of that. Really it was a game to him, since the ripe age of seven, Roman had made it his goal to torment every caretaker he had into leaving. By twenty-two he’d nearly perfected it. The longest any of them had gone was six months, but Roman’s personal best was three hours.-or-the one where Roman makes a game out of getting rid of bodyguards but Victor just might be interesting enough for him to keep around.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me starting another Zsaszmask wip when i have several other fics on the go and am right in the middle of finals? It's more likely than you think :))

Over the years, Roman Sionis has had a great many bodyguards. They didn’t tend to stick around long, Roman made sure of that. Really it was a game to him, since the ripe age of seven Roman had made it his goal to torment every caretaker he had into leaving. By twenty-two he’d nearly perfected it. The longest any of them had gone was six months, but Roman’s personal best was three hours. This last one had gone two and a half months, painfully average. Everything about this one had been painfully average; crew-cut, clean-shaven, stiff-upper-lipped, broad shoulders beneath his suit, empty eyes behind his sunglasses.

It had taken a fair bit to get rid of that guy, none of the basic, usual stuff had gone over, and he wasn’t even fuckable. Finally Roman had given up on the careful planning and had just backed his car into the man. It wasn’t perfect, it certainly wasn’t his cleverest scheme, but it had worked out in the end. 

He was sure a new one would crop up soon enough, and he wondered vaguely what sort of person they’d have picked out for him this time. It was bullshit, really, he was twenty-two years old, he didn’t need a fucking babysitter.

Now he sat, nursing a glass of scotch, right leg crossed neatly over his left as he flipped absently through the newspaper. He hadn’t spoken to his father in two days, not since the scathing lecture on losing yet another member of staff. It was easy to avoid him, in a house this size, easy to ignore one another. He’d be seeking out his own place soon but for the moment, he’d only just graduated, and Mother wanted him to stay with them for the moment. He was fairly sure it gave her some sense of purpose. 

Since he’d been back, her behaviour had been increasingly erratic. She drifted in-and-out of rooms, doting on him when his father wasn’t around, and staying silent when he was. Roman would humour her overbearing affection when he was in the mood, and respond coldly when he wasn’t.

Now she floated into the den, as if summoned by his thoughts, wringing her hands. She would have been frowning, he was sure, if the fillers in her face allowed for the expression.

“Morning, mother.” He said, without looking up from his paper. 

“Sweetheart, are you drinking? It’s not even eleven yet.”

Roman finally put the paper down, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a Saturday.”

She nodded, her blue eyes distant and a little clouded. “I just worry about you.”

The tone of her voice set Roman’s teeth on edge. “Interesting that you’ve commented on my drinking when you look like you’re two valium in already.” He spat, swallowing down the rest of his drink. 

“Roman-” 

“I’m just stating a fact, mother.” He was feeling particularly venomous this morning. 

She shook her head sadly. “Your father wanted to speak to you.” 

“Oh, excellent.” A pause. “In his office, I assume, too lazy to come out and actually see me himself.”

“You know he’s-"

“Busy? Yeah, has been for about twenty-two years.” She opened her mouth to say something, but Roman waved a hand dismissively, dropping his glass down on the table. “It’s fine, I’ll go see him.” He climbed to his feet, exiting the room. 

So Roman entered into his father’s office, and the first thing he noticed was a man he did  _ not  _ recognize sitting in the corner. Some filthy bleached blonde thing in stained jeans and a hideous yellow sweater. Roman glanced at his father, then back at the man in the corner, his lip curling with distaste. 

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

The man just smiled at him, all teeth, except for the two he was missing.

Roman shook his head, turning his gaze back to his father. “You’re letting animals into your office now?”

Richard Sionis scoffed at him, one dark eyebrow arching smoothly. “Roman, this is your new bodyguard, since the last one quit after your… accident.” 

“How many is that now?” He couldn’t help the little smile that crossed his lips. 

“More than I care to count.”

“Hmm… Well it looks like the pickings have gotten slim.” He glanced back at the man in the corner. “Fine, is that all you wanted me for?”

“His father blinked at him from behind the desk. “Yes. That’s all.” 

“Good, I’m off then.” He glanced at the brute in the corner. “You. Come.”

The man followed him easily enough, at least he listened. That was a good sign, still Roman could smell the cologne wafting off of him, and it made his nose curl just a bit.

“So here’s how this is gonna work.” Roman began. “You follow me around when I leave the house because it makes my father happy, but you don’t get in my way, and you let me do whatever the fuck I want, and if you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell, sound good?” 

The man just stared at him, not saying a fucking word, but smiling wide, and sharp and crooked. It was actually a little unnerving.

“You’re not some kind of freak are you?” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. God, did you dump an entire bottle of cologne on yourself this morning? You fucking  _ reek _ ."

He was still just staring. 

“Dense, aren’t you? That’s fine, I don’t need talkative. Besides, you won’t be around all that long by the look of you.” 

“What makes you say that?” His voice was smooth, deeper than Roman had expected, the first thing about him that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“Oh good, it speaks!” He replied dryly. “Well, here’s the thing, I don’t need, or want a babysitter, contrary to what dear old dad might think. I can take care of myself, and your peroxide-soaked ass is just another in a  _ long _ line of irritations, so by all means, follow me around, but you won’t last. They never do.” 

The man looked at him for a long time, tilted his head to one side, and then broke out in yet another unnerving grin. “I might surprise you.”

“I  _ sincerely _ fucking doubt it.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going out later, so I assume you’ll be coming. Just stay out of my fucking way, kay?” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” 

Roman smirked just a little, he kind of liked that. “Keep talking like that, and will get along just fine.” 

*****

A week went by, and Victor was getting tired of this job. It paid well enough, but it was tiring. He was pretty sure the rich shithead he was looking after didn’t even know his name. More than once, Victor had thought about just killing the brat, but the money was good and so that was all that mattered. 

Mostly it consisted of trailing after Roman while he visited different clubs, it was a similar routine, he’d spend the course of the evening racking up a bar tab which exceeded nearly a hundred dollars per evening. He’d chat and flirt, and eventually he’d throw a fit of some sort, and all the while Victor would sit in a booth, or stand in a corner nearby, and he would simply wait. 

Tonight though, Victor was sitting low in a chair, his fingers drumming absently on his knee. He needed a cigarette. He was a bit zoned out, so it took him a moment to notice the expression on Roman’s face. 

He was talking to someone, Victor hadn’t heard what the man said, but he saw the way Roman’s eyes narrowed, saw the clench of his jaw. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

The man repeated himself, though Victor still couldn’t make out the words he said. 

“I thought so.” His tone was tight.

The man kept talking, seemingly oblivious to the rage brimming in Roman’s face, and Victor was suddenly  _ very  _ interested. The moment he snapped was simple, his jaw tensed and he slammed a hand down on the table, abruptly pulling the man out of whatever it was he was talking about. 

“Just shut the  _ fuck _ up, would you?” He snarled. “You’re so fucking obnoxious, it’s not like anyone actually  _ cares _ .” 

The man’s mouth fell open in shock, he opened his mouth to speak, but Roman merely overturned the contents of his own drink into the man’s lap.

The man was protesting, of course, but Roman just laughed, high and cold. “You’re lucky I didn’t smash the glass of your face.” 

He stood then, turning away, snapping his fingers at Victor. “Come on, I’m bored of this shithole, let's go.” Victor had never obeyed an order so quickly in his life. 

They stepped out of the club, Roman absently shooting a text to his driver before lighting a cigarette, still positively fuming. Victor was still watching him sideways, couldn’t really stop himself, his eyes trailing curiously over the other man’s face. 

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Roman spat in his direction. 

“Sorry.” Victor looked a way, now he could feel Roman’s own gaze burning into the side of his head. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Victor shrugged and lit a cigarette, the relief that washed over him as the nicotine flooded his system was almost instantaneous. 

“Too much for you?”

Victor smiled just a bit at that. “Not exactly.” 

“We’ll see.” The driver pulled up, and Roman finished his cigarette, flicking it down into the gutter. “Coming?” He shot over one shoulder as he moved towards the car. Victor followed quickly after him, his new job suddenly so much more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a short one this time around, but I have plans I swear!

Victor noticed it more after that, whatever dark thing it was that lurked beneath Roman's skin. He didn’t think it was a sign that Roman’s defenses were dropping, but rather that he himself was paying more attention. If he was being honest, he hadn’t been paying much attention to Roman before, simply because he’d assumed that Roman was, like most people, not worth the time. Pretty sure, but just another smug, rich brat, damn near dead on the inside already.  Now though he saw it; the cracks in the veneer, the small glimpses at the rage that seemed to be constantly boiling under the man’s skin. It was a smug, arrogant kind of coldness that rose up behind his eyes from time to time, and it startled Victor for its familiarity. 

He knew that expression; he’d seen it in the mirror enough times. 

Occasionally, Roman would talk, not really  _ to  _ him, not exactly. To talk  _ to _ someone was to engage them in conversation, that wasn’t what Roman did. No, what Roman did was speak into empty air about whatever was on his mind -generally about himself- with the expectation that those nearest would listen to whatever it was he was saying, at least enough that they could respond, if only to agree with whatever it was he’d been saying.

Tonight was such a night. Tonight they were in another fucking club, a familiar setting though Roman’s mood was uncharacteristically sour. Normally there was at least an attempt made on Roman’s part to disguise his anger, but tonight he seemed to radiate his displeasure, in a way which had other patrons giving him a wide berth. That meant, of course, that the only person present for, and obligated to listen to his tangent was Victor himself. Not that Victor minded of course; he liked listening to Roman, especially when he was in moods like this. Liked watching that cold fury behind blue eyes. Found the whole thing absolutely enchanting. 

“I’m not what everyone thinks I am, you know.” Roman was saying, he’d hardly touched his drink, fuming. “I know what they all say, there goes Roman Sionis, daddy’s good, obedient little son, just going through a rebellious phase, but I’ll settle down, of course, that’s just youth." He rolls his eyes. "Fake fucking fucks."

Victor stayed silent for a moment, he usually didn’t bother to reply to Roman, but tonight he was feeling particularly brave, so tonight he spoke. “That’s not how I see you.” It was quiet, but the response was immediate, Roman's head snapping up, eyes narrowing just a bit. 

“Oh? Speaking tonight are we?” There was venom behind the words, and for a moment Victor worried he’d made a mistake. “Normally, I’d tell you to shut the fuck up, but I’m bored tonight so…” he waved a gloved hand. “Proceed.”

Victor swallowed. He’d never had Roman’s attention on him as fully as he did right now, and there was something intoxicating about the intensity of that gaze. Victor found himself standing up a bit straighter. “You’re… not like the rest of them.” He began. 

“Obviously.” Roman leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of his drink. “That’s some surface level fucking insight.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” A pause. “You’re… hiding yourself. It’s a good disguise but it… cracks, every once in a while.” 

“You have my attention.” Roman cocked his head to one side, lips pulling up in a smile. “Let’s see if you can keep it.”

“See, I don’t talk much but I pay attention.” He turned the words over carefully in his head before he spoke again. “You’re holding back all the time, I can see that. I just wonder what you could be if you let it out.”

“Huh.” Roman seemed genuinely surprised by that. “You’re sharper than you look. Not that that’s hard, since you look like a bleached sewer rat.”

Victor chuckled at that.

Roman was still looking at him, his brow furrowed just a bit as if considering. “Okay.” He said finally, breaking into a smile as he seemed to come to a conclusion. “I bet you’d like to see that part I’m holding back, wouldn’t you?”

“ _ Yes _ .” He couldn't quite curb the enthusiasm in his tone. 

“Fine. Watch this.” Roman downed the rest of his drink in one swallow, crossing the bar. He approached a man who Victor vaguely recognized. After a moment, he realized that it was the man whose lap Roman had poured a drink into two weeks ago. Roman tapped the man on the shoulder, and as he turned, he smashed his glass of the side of the other man’s face. 

The atmosphere in the club shifted immediately and entirely after that, conversations fell silent, and the man started to scream. Victor felt himself smile. 

“Oh stop your moaning, its not like you could get any uglier anyway.” Roman scoffed. He turned his gaze outwards then. “What the fuck are you all staring at?” It seemed to work with most people averting their gazes, not wanting to draw his ire. He waved Victor over. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Victor hopped to his feet, following Roman out of the club almost eagerly. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was ashamed to say he was already halfway hard. 

“That good enough for you?” Roman asked, once they were out on the streets. 

Before Victor could respond, someone came out of the club. He was yelling, and pointing a finger at Roman, and Victor didn’t bother to listen to what he had to say, just acted on instinct. It wasn’t an attack really, but it was a good enough excuse for violence, and Victor was bored of holding back. So he snatched the man’s wrist, and with one smooth movement snapped it.  The crack wrung out like a gunshot as bone tore through skin, and the man started to scream. Victor shoved him backwards and the man fell to the pavement, gripping his wrist and sobbing like a mess. Blood seeped between fingers, and Victor smiled like a shark.

Roman blinked at him, his eyes were narrowed and curious, his lips pulled back in a smile. “What the hell was your name again?”

_ Finally _ . 

“Victor Zsasz.” He held out a hand to shake. 

Roman took it, his hand was gloved, but his grip was firm, and he held Victor close, close enough to be better heard over all the screaming. “Well, Victor Zsasz, why don’t we go back home and you can have a drink with me.” It wasn’t really a question, not that Victor would have said no regardless. So of course, Victor agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it, as always i love any feedback
> 
> tumblr is @twink-biwalker and twitter is @muse_appollo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad y'all have enjoyed this so far, I was worried this fandom was dying but you're feedback has been incredible

Now the two of them sit opposite one another on two couches. Of course he has his own fucking wing; the house is so much bigger than anything Victor’s ever seen. 

Roman had changed when they got there, dressed in a pair of silk pajamas. Now he was reclining on a chaise with a glass of scotch in his hand. He watched Victor with hooded eyes. “You’re kinda fucked up, aren’t you?” 

Victor snorted. Roman really didn’t have a filter. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” 

Roman leaned forwards in his seat just a bit, cocking his head to one side. “How fucked up?” 

Victor sipped his drink. “Depends who’s asking.”

“See, I just watched you snap a man’s arm and you didn’t even blink.”

_ Neither did you _ . He wanted to say, but he didn’t. “You get desensitized to violence in my line of work.”

“Hmm.”

Victor got the distinct impression that Roman saw through him. Roman stood then, crossing the room to pour himself another drink, he paused seeming to consider before bringing the bottle with him. “See, here’s the thing.” Roman topped up Victor’s glass, placing himself down on the arm of the couch, close enough that his thigh brushed Victor’s arm. “From where I was standing it looked like you enjoyed it.” 

Victor took a slow sip of his drink, the scotch burning hot in his throat. “What if I did?”

“Well, I’d say you're the first interesting person I’ve met in a  _ long  _ time.” 

Victor opened his mouth then closed it again, not quite sure how to reply. 

“Do you like men, Mr. Zsasz?”

Victor choked just a bit on his scotch. “I don’t really  _ like _ anyone.” He said, after he’d recovered. 

Roman rolled his eyes at that. “I’m not asking for your edgy life philosophy, Victor. I’m just trying to figure out if you like cock.” 

Victor licked his lips, his eyes flicking up to meet Roman’s gaze. His eyes were hooded, his lips quirked up in a small smirk. Victor let himself smile in response, crooked as he met Roman’s eye. “Then yeah.” 

“I thought so.” A pause, Roman finished his drink, setting it down on the side table. “You’re not the only one who pays attention, Mr. Zsasz. I’ve seen the way you look at me.” 

“And how’s that?” 

Roman stood then, moving to stand between Victor’s knees. He leaned close, one hand braced against the back of the couch, the other catching Victor’s chin, tilting his head back so that the two of them could lock eyes. “Like you want to do terrible things to me.” His eyes narrowed just a bit. “Am I close?” 

“It would definitely be a breach of my contract.” 

Roman smiled wider. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He slid a finger up to Victor’s lower lip. Victor parted his lips willingly, allowing Roman to hook a finger behind his bottom teeth, prying his mouth open a little further. “Such a pretty fucking mouth.” He pulled back then, stepping a bit back from Victor, pulling his gloves off and tossing them down onto the table as he spoke. “Kneel on the floor for me would you, Victor?”

Victor did as he was told, slipped to his knees without hesitation. 

Roman looked down at him, his pupils blown wide, lips parted just a bit. “Obedient little thing, aren’t you?”

He opened his robe. Victor could see his half-hard cock through his silk pajama pants, and he licked his lips. “You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Hmm?”

Victor inhaled sharply, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he met Roman’s gaze. 

The slap wasn’t hard when it came, but it stung a bit regardless. It sent a jolt of humiliation through Victor that pooled into his groin. 

“I asked you a question!” Roman snapped. 

Normally Victor didn’t take kindly to being pushed around but this was different. Roman was different. Roman had always been different. “Yes.” Victor licked his lips. “I want you to fuck my mouth.” 

“Good boy.” His hand settled on the top of Victor’s head, nails scraping against his scalp. “Well, get to it then.” 

Victor didn’t need any further invitation, hooked his fingers into the waistband of Roman’s pants and tugged it downwards, wrapping a hand around the length of him. He met Roman’s eye as he took him into his mouth, and Roman groaned, pressing his hips forward as he did. “Fuck.”

Victor bobbed his head, bracing his hands against Roman’s silk clad thighs as he took Roman far into the back of his throat. The sounds Roman made were incredible, low moans, and soft, gasping curses, scraping at the short hairs on top of Victor’s head. 

He felt Roman start to tense up, felt his nails bite into the skin at the back of his neck when he came, swearing. Victor swallowed, looking up at Roman.

“Who knew you were hiding all that talent, hmm.” Roman beamed at him as Victor climbed to his feet. “If I’d known you were such an excellent cocksucker I’d have put you to use earlier.”

“I’m just full of surprises.” His eyes were on Roman’s mouth. 

Roman reached out, grabbing the bottle of scotch and handing it to Victor. “Wash your mouth out, then follow me to the bedroom.” He grinned. “Bring the scotch.” 

Victor took a sip from the bottle, breaking out in a grin before following Roman into the bedroom. 

*****

Two hours later after thoroughly fucking Roman into the mattress, Victor was laying on his back on silk sheets, staring up at the ceiling. “Holy shit.” Roman beamed at him. “I might just keep you.”

“Thanks.”

“Now get out.” It shouldn’t have surprised him really. 

Victor snorted. “What no pillow talk?”

“I need to shower. You can sleep on the couch. Consider yourself lucky, most people would be walking home.” 

Victor just shrugged and picked up his boxers off the floor, dressing himself before walking out of the room. 

*****

So that was how the relationship -if you could really call it that- between them began. Mostly, they slept together, a lot, and it was fine really, the sex was good, and came with the added thrill that Richard Sionis would be right fucking pissed if he found out what his son was getting up to. 

Roman had, of course, received a stern lecture for his outburst in the bar, but mostly it was empty threats. Empty threats were fine, and his father had retired physical discipline when Roman had turned eighteen, and now he mostly strove to bury his son’s more unsavoury actions. 

Zsasz, for all his unpleasantries, had begun to grown on him. He was loyal, firstly, something Roman was unaccustomed to from his previous…  _ caretakers.  _ Generally, they were far more concerned with keeping his father appeased than with anything Roman wanted. It made sense of course, since he was the one signing their paychecks. Zsasz, however, was different. Zsasz held a kind of single minded devotion which he directed at Roman without hesitation, and was very quick to treat Roman as the centre of his universe, something which Roman himself found suited him just fine. 

He wasn’t Roman’s usual type to put it lightly, but Roman had nudged him in the direction of something approaching reasonable personal hygiene. That alongside buying him some new clothes, and a more palatable cologne had brought him to something approaching decency. 

Of course, there were the scars. The first time Roman had seen Victor without a shirt on, he’d been transfixed by them, had run his fingers across the raised lines, down over the length of Victor’s chest. He hadn’t asked about them at the time, he’d been a bit distracted, his brain more than a little preoccupied from how hard he’d come down his bodyguard’s throat, and his dick already getting hard again at the thought of getting fucked.

Now though, he wondered. It’d been a couple of weeks they’d been sleeping together now, and the curiosity was rising up in his chest. Tonight they were doing their usual routine, drinking expensive scotch in the den. They’d fuck afterwards, that was their routine. 

Roman settled into into Victor’s lap, toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leaned in close. “I have a question.” 

Victor licked his lips, smiling up at him. “What’s that?”

“What’s the deal with these?” He popped the buttons on Victor’s shirt, pushing it aside to reveal the scars. “They look like you did them yourself. Did you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Victor paused, pressing his lips together as if considering what to say. “Each one is… someone I set free.”

“Someone you killed?”

Victor nodded.

“That’s kinda hot you know that?” Roman purred, shifting his hips against Victor’s, creating a hot friction between the two of them. “How many are there?”

“Fifteen.”

“Jesus you’ve been busy.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing over Victor’s ear. “I’d love to watch you some day.” 

Victor gasped at that, pupils blown so wide his eyes were almost black. “You would?”

“Mmmhmm.” He nipped at Victor’s ear. “You know what I’m thinking about?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” 

“Yeah?” Roman popped another button on Victor’s shirt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Victor flipped their position abruptly, laying Roman out on his back on the couch, hovering over him, pinning his wrists. Roman grinned up at him, feigning straining against his wrists to make Victor press him down harder.

Victor grinned like a shark and then kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm on twitter @muse_appollo or on tumblr @twink-biwalker


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